


le roi des aulnes

by honeyedgold



Series: les contes de la nuit (tales of the night) - nightverse [1]
Category: Elisabeth - Levay/Kunze
Genre: Gen, Harm to Children, brief description of gunshot wound, very vaguely though - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-05-01 10:55:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14518956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeyedgold/pseuds/honeyedgold
Summary: was it a vision, or a waking dream?or: the emperor of austria is visited by an unwelcome specter.





	le roi des aulnes

The night was bitterly cold. Franz Joseph was galloping at full speed, riding bareback through the woods. The horse he did not know, but it was a handsome white steed, obviously the pick of the stable. In his arm, Rudolf was nestled; his only son, his heir, the future of Austria. The boy was fitfully dozing, feverish.   

They had to get to safety soon. He dared not think of what would happen otherwise.  
  
He could hardly see through the wind battering his face and the thick curtain of fog enveloping them. Then, lightning-quick, a familiar figure emerged from nothingness. Even from such a distance, and as fast as both of them were dashing through the woods, Franz Joseph could have recognized that excellent horsemanship even if he had been blindfolded.

“Sisi!” He cried out. “Sisi, wait!”  
  
She clearly did not hear him, or did not want to. The fog swallowed her up again.

“Papa…” the boy whispered weakly, through cracked and bleeding lips. “Do you see him?”  
  
“Who, Rudolf?”  
  
“The man behind us.”

Franz Joseph turned - indeed there was someone, riding in pursuit on a dark horse that made no sound. A black crown adorned his golden head, and behind him flew a cape of white ermine and dark velvet. His skin was as pale as snow.

“There is no man.” He tried to sound as firm and calming as he could. “Hold on tight, we’re almost safe.”  
  
“His Angels…” Rudolf’s small voice was filled with wonder. He hardly seemed small and sickly now. “They’re singing…”

He heard them as well. The tongue was German, for he could understand it clearly, and yet accented with a strange, warbling tone unlike anything he had ever heard. His blood froze into chips of ice.  
  
_Du,_ _Sternenkind…_  
  
“It’s just the wind.”  
  
“I can hear them… they’re calling for me…”  
  
_Du,_ _schönes Kind..._  
  
“Stay calm, Rudolf.”  
  
“They want me to join them… I see them there, on either side of us...”

 _Komm mit und singe mit uns..._  
  
“It’s just trees. There are _no Angels_ , you hear?”  
  
“They dance so beautifully.”  
  
_Bist du bereit?_  
_  
Es ist deine Zeit -_

_der König wird mit dir tanzen._

Franz Joseph could stand it no longer. He snarled at the unseen pursuers. _“Enough!_ I am His Imperial and Royal Apostolic Majesty, Emperor of Austria and all the lands of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, and _by the grace of God,_ none of you foul creatures shall lay a hand upon _my son!”_    
  
Mocking laughter filled his mind. _Your son? He was never yours. His soul belongs to me, mortal, just like his mother’s. You cannot stop us._

The Angels continued to sing, inexorable. Rudolf writhed and sobbed in his grasp.

_You see? He hears his brethren. He is damned. No God will protect him but I._

_“Papa!”_ The sound emerged as an unearthly shriek.

And there! Just ahead of them shone the warm light of a friendly inn.

Franz Joseph dismounted with a leap. The horse keeled over, dead of exhaustion before it had hit the ground. A woman who had been standing at the doorway ran to him, alarmed at the sight of distressed and disheveled travelers.  
  
“Help -” he gasped out. “My son, he -”

The Emperor looked down to see blue lips, white skin, and closed eyes. His hand came away from the back of the boy’s head dripping red.

 _Der letzte Tanz gehört allein nur mir,_ warned his rival in a tone clear and carrying.

Rudolf’s face was locked in a beautiful, eternally blissful smile.

* * *

The father woke then, to an empty bedchamber, drenched in cold sweat. The clock was chiming midnight of January 29, 1889. He rose shakily and poured himself a glass of cognac.

He did not know whether to believe it was a coincidence for a long time. He was by no means a superstitious man, despite the vein that ran through his family (save Valerie). When he finally received his answer, it was on an evening near the end of 1916. The last thing he saw was a familiar face, so like yet unlike his own, bending down to place a gentle kiss upon his august brow.

**Author's Note:**

> This piece was inspired by _Der Erlkönig_ , which translates to _The Elf-King, The King of the Alders,_ or _The Erlking,_ depending on who you ask. Originally a poem composed by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, it was set to music many times. The most famous, and the one I used here, is the version by Franz Schubert. 
> 
> For the non-historically inclined _Elisabeth_ fans, rare though they are: (or those who haven’t seen the show and accidentally clicked on my fic, hello there)
> 
> Crown Prince Rudolf and Baroness Mary Vetsera were found dead of gunshot wounds at the Mayerling hunting lodge on January 30, 1889. The Prince was found with a glass of cognac, and the Baroness a rose clasped in her hand. 
> 
> Rudolf wrote farewell letters to everyone of import in his life except his father. Upon hearing this, Franz Joseph collapsed to the floor and cried for a while, refusing to be helped up or consoled by any of his attendants.
> 
> The back of Rudolf’s head had to be reconstructed with wax and bandaged so he could lay in state and be presentable to mourners, especially his family. Today, Mayerling still stands, but as a convent where Carmelite nuns say daily prayers to Rudolf’s soul. Rudolf’s furniture and some belongings, including the bed in the room where they were found, are located at the Imperial Furniture Collection _(Hofmobiliendepot)_. The wing that he stayed in at Schönbrunn Palace is now, I believe, the Children’s Museum.
> 
> Aside: Rudolf kept a skull on his desk. I’m not kidding. How _utterly emo_ is that? I can’t possibly outdo him!
> 
> Emperor Franz Joseph I died at Schönbrunn on November 21, 1916. Per Nightverse canon, as seen in _Pavane_ , Rudolf was the Angel that came for his father in the end. Yes, yes, I know his official title was longer than what I cited in the fic, but I compromised for the sake of brevity. 
> 
> Rudolf, Sisi, and Franz Joseph were interred in the _Kapuzinergruft_ , Capuchin/Imperial Crypt, in Vienna. Today, you can pay a visit to them if you happen to be in the city. (Or live there, like me…) Flowers, pictures, sweets, and even schoolkids’ drawings are often left at their bier. (And by _their_ , I mean the Emperor’s and Empress’. I cried when I saw a lonely bunch of white roses in front of Rudolf’s coffin, in stark contrast to the offerings for his parents.) Mary was buried at Heiligenkreuz Abbey, where she and Rudolf had wished to be laid to rest together. 
> 
> The German runs as following -
> 
> “You, child of the stars,  
> You, beautiful child,  
> Come along, and sing with us.  
> Are you ready?  
> It is your time.  
> The King will dance with you.”  
> Sing it to the tune of the start of _Der letzte Tanz’s_ chorus. (Or _Saigo no Dansu_ , or what have you…)
> 
> And, of course, Death’s final warning is “The final dance only belongs to me.”
> 
>  _Sternenkind_ means _“child of the stars”_ in German, and refers to stillborn children. I thought it morbidly appropriate and, along with _Bist du bereit?_ , a not-so-sneaky shoutout to _Tanz der Vampire._


End file.
